


Winter Snow

by cxhztile (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Deaf Clint Barton, Friends to Enemies, Gen, Marking, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Werewolf Bucky Barnes, the last tag is in a way??, yea sayin it now thta tony and rhodey are an item ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-03 02:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15809565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cxhztile
Summary: The attack itself was brutal. The bite was deep enough to hit tender muscle. Blood trickled down from the wound for a good half hour.The infection was the kicker. Started as a minor scab but started turning grotesque colors and was freezing in that snow anyway. Be mindful this was in the matter of a few hours.After being rescued, money was scrapped together for an emergency amputation. Hardly enough to pass by the ER fee and beginning of surgery costs. But, that was all to be worried for later.The recovery was swift, to everyone’s surprise. But the side effects were new.





	1. Chapter 1

The attack itself was brutal. The bite was deep enough to hit tender muscle. Blood trickled down from the wound for a good half hour.

The infection was the kicker. Started as a minor scab but started turning grotesque colors and was freezing in that snow anyway. Be mindful this was in the matter of a few hours.

After being rescued, money was scrapped together for an emergency amputation. Hardly enough to pass by the ER fee and beginning of surgery costs. But, that was all to be worried for later.

The recovery was swift, to everyone’s surprise. But the side effects were new.

* * *

 

The impact was enough to send a surge of stinging pain through his skull and knock his hearing aids out. Imagine those impact shots in movies where the main character gets blown onto their back and their hearing goes out for effect. That’s how he felt except a hundred times more silence ringing in his ears.

Lucky had been playing out in the yard, minding his own business, so Clint had let him be for a while. Reasonably, he worried about the golden lab since he was missing an eye already and letting him get frostbite or something would be a hefty pain in the ass to pay, in money and the weigh on his conscience.

The sun was starting to set when he opened the cabin door and its accompanying screen door to inspect for the little bastard. He could never tell if his call-out whistle was loud enough since it was loud to him but that’s because of the pitch he had his aids set to.

From the brush of the trees framing the edge of the lawn came a rustling and a yellow dog bounding towards the porch. Clint knelt to start rubbing behind Lucky’s ears and under his collar when he picked up on a continuous noise out of the forest. Here came a giant white figure, weaving its way through the trees like they were nothing.

It began to come into view as Lucky ran to reunite with it, tail wagging up a storm. His following bark seemingly was like he was saying this was the place they were looking for, the giant snow-white wolf almost nodding. From there, he looked over with calm eyes as Clint, who was three seconds from pissing his pants.

It was striking enough for canines to have light blue eyes but the effect still carried over in these warm brown ones. It was a very stark contrast to the white fur the beast was bound in. Considerably, his paw was probably the size of Clint’s face and certainly towered over him.

He stepped off the porch, with a sure-foot, but didn’t make it far. The beast before him began to snarl, bearing its teeth in turn, and caught him dead in his tracks. It began to pad forward, still not particularly fond of him. His ill-fated misstep backwards is were the impact came it. His head collided with the ground uncomfortably and watching the being hover over made him believer he was truly done for.

His eyes were wrenched closed and he was praying the potential mauling would be over with quickly. 

* * *

 

He woke up intact, not an ice cube in the snow, and peacefully warm. Or maybe he had died and was in heaven. He peeled his eyes open carefully, noting he was on the couch. 

At the breakfast nook, a man with shabby brown hair and one arm sat, glaring across the room at him. The brown was disrupted with streaks of white, like frosted tips that every 90′s college-goer thought was a good idea, but not quite as terrible looking. He didn’t bother to steal a shirt but somehow nabbed Clint’s favorite pair of plaid pajama bottoms. 

Thankfully, his spare set of hearing aids were haphazardly thrown in the decorative bowl on the coffee table and he just had to slip them in, slightly tweaking the pitch. They needed a little coaxing to start working properly and he was off like lightning to get the sweet relief of coffee. 

“What were you? Army?” He questioned, glancing over the scars littering rippling muscle. He was leaned against the kitchen counter, opposite his uninvited guest. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know...” The man growled, cuing Clint’s hands to fly up in surrender to spare the temper already being let off at him. It was a miracle he set down his mug moments prior or it would have been a goner along with his feet.

“Maybe I should have started with a simpler question... Have you got a name?” 

“James. James Barnes.” James almost sounded reluctant to tell him. It had been forever since he had actually talked to another person. In public, he held his tongue and among his wolf form, communication with Lucky was mostly body language. 

"Right. I'm Clint. Obviously you know Lucky," a small tail wag from the corner of the room, "Do- would you like a jacket or something? I'm sure it's pretty cold being shirtless." Clint was hoping to not end up with pointed nails jabbed into his esophagus. Thankfully, he only got a polite head nod. He turned on his heel to rummage the hurricane he called a room for his comfiest purple pullover hoodie. Obviously, James needed help getting it on but as soon as it was pretty much there, Clint's hands were at his side, being cautious if the guy didn't do touch. 

The newest problem was that the effort to pull it on messed up James's shoulder length hair immensely. It took every fiber of Clint's willpower not to giggle as the other man tried to blow the strands out of his eyes. A minute later, he strolled to the bathroom in search of a hair brush and one of the thousands of scrunchies Nat had left there. James mean-mugged him when he first got back but finally gave in, sighing and nodding his consent. The huff barely registered in the hearing aids but it didn't matter. 

Surprisingly, Clint was extremely gentle, much unlike how he pulled back the string of his bow. His movements with the brush were careful and slow, almost enough to numb someone to sleep. He was delicate even when securing the band around the collected hair. One stubborn strand still hung out but he absentmindedly tucked it behind an ear after he came back around the front of the counter. When his conscience caught up with him, he murmured an apology and snatched his hand away. 

In general, James would have minded being touched. But, Clint's little touches were a little more likable. They were soft and brief, clearly knowing their boundary -- mostly.

“Are they actually sharp?” Curiosity was glittering against blue eyes, even if one was nearly hidden by a black and blue. 

“Be my guest.” James murmured leaving his mouth open enough for Clint to press his thumb onto a razor sharp canine. 

“Dumbass.” He snickered as they watched the thumb begin to bleed, despite having barely touched the tooth. Seconds later, Clint wiped it off on his jeans as James continued to stare disapprovingly.

“Wash it before it gets infected.” He recommended, already knowing how big of a deal it could turn into. 

“It’s just a little hole. It’ll be fine.” Clint reassured him, having gotten minor scraps and cuts like that millions of times before, and still recovering from last week’s round of them. 

“You say that until you end up like me... I should know.” The tone of this one was more serious than the last few remarks. His gaze was also more menacing under his dark knitted brows. 

Clint complied to avoid another outburst yet still looked across for an explanation. James sighed as he collected his thoughts to be able to foreshorten the story enough to get through it quickly. 

“To answer your earlier attempt at asking me a question, yes, I was in the military. National guard, ground forces, 107th regiment. Decorated soldier, yadda yadda. I would have actually stayed there my entire life, working beside our little ragtag team of Howling Commandos had it not been for the incident.” He paused to recollect and catch a breath, noticing Clint listening intently, so much so he even turned his aids up slightly.

“Covert mission, inspecting a Russian lab, nearly on the edge of Siberia--” James's face went dark as he was mentally teleported back t when everything went to hell.

“Okay, stop. I’m interested in the story, truly, but that pained look on your face is killing my mood. So, the basic jist is that’s when and where you got attacked and infected.” Clint swallowed after spitting that out, looking like he might cry.

“Yes... Lycanthropy starts as a virus transmitted through a bite. If there’s enough present in the wound, it turns infected and then it goes down hill from there.” It was almost a life-saver not to fully bring up his PTSD from that event but still a sore topic as a whole. 

“So it’s kind of like HIV?” Possibly the worst example to be brought up, thank you human disaster. 

“I..” James took a moment to run through a whole wave of emotions before he could even sort out a reply, “In a way, yes. Terrible issue to bring up, but if that example helps shed light for you, then yes, they’re comparable.” Clint nodded now being able to slightly piece it together.

“Also sorry, usually I’m more suave and badass. I’m just trying to take all of _this_ in." He apologized. 

"Suave and badass when look like _that?_ " Those two words even coming close to describing the blonde was incredibly surprising. Sure, maybe the busted knuckles of his right hand made him look like a victor but not everything else. Gash across his nose, bruise on one cheek and an eye, cut on the forehead, busted lip, and bandaged palm on that previously mentioned right hand. 

"Hey, I put up a good fight."

"Really though? I've known you for barely twelve hours _and_ I'm a beta among wolves. Yet I'm more intimidating and dominating than you. If anything, Lucky's an alpha and you're his submissive omega." All of that was likely true, in all honesty. 

Clint was slightly offended but he would be damned if the little genuine smirk James passed after that didn't warm his heart a little.

 

 

 


	2. New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys get some help

Lucky picked his head up at the sound of his name and trotted over from his bed in the living room. He stood on his hind legs, feet on James’s leg. He was scooped up and placed on his lap where he began to get pet the best one hand could manage. 

“Little traitor bastard...” Clint mumbled, watching James’s jaw, which could honestly cut steel, get bombarded in dog kisses. 

“I wonder if Tony could do something with nanotech to help you out with your arm situation. He'd definitely have a field day with it.” He finally spoke, after much contemplation.

“Tony?” James eyed him like he was changing shades.

“Tony Stark. Ya know, billionaire, philanthropist, whatever the hell else he calls himself? He flaunts that huge ass ego but really he’s a selfless guy who loves any chance he can be an engineering nerd.” It was amusing but fascinating to watch Tony in his fits of passion, truly.

“Who says Stark would help me, of all people?” 

“I say. Especially since my prototype aids just caught their ticket on the highway to hell. I know he’s been dying to program the real things.” Clint shrugged. James was intrigued, at least in the slightest, and watching inquisitively. It would definitely be worth a shot; if it didn't work out, he really had nothing to lose. 

"I'll take your bet." He offered, lips taught in a small grin. Clint returned the smile and went to retrieve his phone, wherever the hell it disappeared to. Tony replied to his text instantaneously and one could feel him beaming on the other side of the line. James continued to scan him over, this time, an exhausted look glossing his eyes, seeming in much need of a nap. It was pretty clear to see so Clint proposed a suggestion:

"If you're tired, you should go nap. I've only got one bedroom but I don't mind taking up the couch. Lucky loves to sleep and refuses to sleep anywhere but the bed so he'll be good company." He was responded to with a simple nod as James began to lift off the stool to comply to that plan. He half-ass saluted, making a physical loop in his walking path, as he strode past the kitchen and down the hall.

Honestly, Clint was two seconds from googling on his phone whether it was bestiality or not to fuck a werewolf.

* * *

 

They were in New York at the Stark Tower within a week. Fully accommodated, regarded as esteemed guests, and catered to in the design process. They crossed Clint's hearing aids off the list first, requiring less attention overall since it was simple engineering. He was very set in stone that they had to be purple tinted in some way. James, on the other hand, needed a little longer. His consultation took upwards of two hours, Tony sketching and re-sketching elements at least a dozen times, triple checking his calculations, and making sure he could find the way to properly fixated everything into working order. It was going to take him a good part of the next day to get the ball rolling.

After they resigned for the night, Clint was stood across the shared room, staring out the window wall. The moon was full, already pale moonlight cast upon neighboring buildings. It was almost entrancing in a way. James didn’t give enough of a shit to notice what his “”roommate”” was doing. He was occupied with pulling clean night clothes from his bag. It was probably that full moons didn’t concern him in the least. Sure, he wolfed out but he wasn’t ravenous or anything; he usually slept through it at this point. Neither pushed the issue, avoiding any argument about it that would be inevitable if mentioned. It was fairly quiet as they did their own thing before going to sleep, but the silent comfort was present and something to revel in. 

James was dead asleep when there was a loud crash in the direct vicinity. He was full white wolf mode at this time of awakening and swiftly scanned the room and heard outside as well, neglecting to check the spot it actually happened. It took a few minutes for him to catch on but it was nearly laughable to see Clint curled up on the floor, unperturbed by his accidental fall from his bed. His attempts to help the other back into bed were futile, only resulting in the beginning of a scent marking on his neck. So, he gave up and decided to just lay beside him, as a giant space heater if you will. 

Clint woke up mortified. First off, he wasn’t sure at which point he ended up on the floor, but that wasn’t the most surprising aspect. Pressed against him was James, arm gently caught around his shoulders. James’s hips were collided with his own and their position was as though he was in the process of rolling them over with just his pelvis. His collarbone was protruding right near his face and it was a close enough range to smell his natural… musk. Thank god it wasn’t the smell of a constantly wet dog. Nonetheless, the problem was the touching in general and his disposition this whole thing was his issue and his issue alone. 

The panic of figuring out what to do sent his pulse through the roof. He just wanted to roll under his bed, as far away from all of this as possible -- if the bed’s base wasn’t a solid wooden block and moving an inch wouldn’t set James off.   All he could do for a while was lie there with goosebumps and pray they’d get out of this predicament soon enough. 

His wish was granted a few minutes after the fact, as the body beside him carefully got up to tread towards the bathroom, completely undisturbed that they were just tangled at the legs. Clint was left baffled but thankfully, neither brought it up at any point later.

They spent quite a while hanging out with Tony in his lab, watching him with curious eyes. Except for the hour long nap Clint took as his new hearing aids were in progress. That left James to eye the tinkering, absorbing it like a sponge, and be the one to wake him when they were ready. His nudge was gentle but enough to stir because of.

“Hear any noise or anything at all?” Stark interrogated once they were slipped on. Clint was too busy adjusting the volume but scared himself half to death when he unintentionally turned them all the way up, falling backwards in tangent. James just continued to sit on his stool, snickering immensely behind the wad of hair masking the middle of his face. 

“Help me up, asshole.” Clint huffed when he could finally pick up the sound of the peanut gallery.

“Nah, I’m good.” A toothy grin was shown smugly before ankles were threatened to get sweeped if he didn’t assist him. He rose, tapping the stool backwards so he had room to be leverage, and extended his wrist to be locked with. Despite lacking an arm, his right was still impressively strong and able to lift Clint to his feet in one go. They lingered for a moment, having accidentally stepped too close together and been able to catch a good glimpse of each other’s eyes. 

It was pure luck that they had still been holding on or Clint would have been on the floor again, panicked from a chirp behind him. 

“Get a room.” is what it said. Then, materializing from the shadows, a glint of red hair reflecting the overhead lights. James had to look past Clint’s big head to fully take in who it was. Petite frame with traces of wicked muscles attached to straight auburn hair and a soft, round face with piercing eyes. Tony had previously had a minor thought to compliment Clint on finally finding a boyfriend or someone to put up with him until he caught the emotion strung in James’s gaze at the woman. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one to see it as Clint scoffed a moment after taking notice and moved to reclaim the stool he had been on a little bit ago.

“Natasha, James. James, Nat.” It wasn’t that he wasn’t glad to see her -- he always was, she was his best friend after all -- but it was utterly cliche the “”love at first sight”” googly eyes James seemed to be sporting. A handshake was exchanged as well as sincere smiles. It was a surprise Natasha didn’t say anything about the fangs in that moment but maybe she just didn’t care. “Get a room” was now droning in the back of Clint’s head just looking at them. It was almost a relief when Nat offered James a tour around the tower and probably a coffee -- he both zoned out and turned off the new aids around that time marker. 

* * *

 

“Nice hickey, Stark.” Clint chuckled, noticing the hint of pink-and-purple tinted skin under Tony’s collar. His face flushed a mild pink and he tugged the edge farther towards his neck to conceal it better.

“Lemme guess: Rhodey?” Clint continued, now just trying desperately to get a reaction. 

“Shut up…” Tony scowled, hunching over farther as he continued to tighten this one screw. 

“Where is your mans anyway?” 

“Shut up or I’ll hit you over the head with this metal arm.” The glare was deadpan and caused Clint to surrender and begin to sulk. Sure, it would hurt but now he was just thinking about why is was in production anyway. He then crossed his arms, setting them on the table, and rested his chin on the intertwined forearms. 

“Barton, please don’t tell me you’ve already gotten head over heels. You’ve known him for like… a week. And I’m sure wolves don’t take kindly to romantic involvements with humans.” Before even making it to New York, Tony had gotten the debrief on James’s situation but hardly paid any mind. Now, he was just hoping Clint wasn’t already in over his head and on the path to fuck himself over.

“Head over heels? Pff, no. Not in a million years. I wouldn’t say he’s romance material anyway. Maybe to a lady, but I wouldn’t know because I’m not one. Besides, I haven’t felt anything for anyone since…” The sentence was already trailing because he was alluding to something dark but it coincidentally was a perfect segue for James to walk in as well. At some point in the past five minutes, Tony had texted him that the arm was ready to do at least a dry run, maybe not so much fully function. 

Clint’s heart skipped a beat as it caught in his throat and he moved backwards a smidge to provide more room. James stood beside where he was for a second, offering a small smile after scanning Tony’s work. It was enough of a gesture for the cinema in Clint’s head to roll a nonexistent tape of fantasy where James had leaned over and kissed him after that moment. 

The daydream of sorts wasn’t helped by the taking off of a sweatshirt, preceded by nothing underneath. It was Clint’s favorite purple one and presumably still smelled like him for a little while longer.

Yeah, he was never getting that one back -- but for once, he let it slide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took me like a week to find the motivation and energy to write. i did almost pass out asleep like 3 times while writing lmao praying to bust out more cause i have a lot of ideas for this story constantly swarming my head


	3. The Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brief overview of the months following

“I think you two would be good together.” He relayed, staring at the ceiling while on his back in bed. It had taken a full hour to calibrate the metal arm and Clint had watched with full attention. Sure, his mind drawled and made him think about the looks shared earlier but he was more interested in watching the attachment, more so the body to which it was placed. The purple hoodie had been thrown askew into his lap, for whatever reason, and he ended up with the second best seat in the house. From the still sculpted bicep to those rigid abs. Was it kinky if he said he wanted to be crushed by the thighs being sported?

“Hm?” James sleepily hummed. He was nearly dozed all the way off, face smashed into a pillow, when the statement was presented.

“You and Natasha. I think you’d make a good duo.” Clint specified, lazily cocking his head to the side for a moment. He sounded as if he spoke from experience -- which he did; he and Natasha had only been a brief fling, though. A fluke if you will. They had tried to make it work, being great friends and all, but it never really clicked and they settled for friends, nothing more and nothing less. 

James simply nodded, laying back into his comfortable position. When his heart fluttered for a half of a second, he wasn’t sure of it was at the mention of Nat or simply who imposed the suggestion.

Maybe they could try it.

* * *

 

And so they did. 

James nonchalantly asked Romanov out and, to everyone’s shock, she agreed. It was nothing more than simple touches in the very beginning. Nothing to give their relationship solidarity.

But, soon enough, they got worse. They started doing… couple stuff. Grabbing for each other’s hand, kissing cheeks, pointing out things saying ‘that’s you’ or ‘us.’ They ended up getting so grossly affectionate, Clint vomited, or at least dry-heaved, after spending even five minutes in a room with them. Turned his stomach in an aching mess caused by sugar, or so he thought. 

Eight solid months this went on. Eight months of James being out of the house most weeks, going out to dinner or staying over at Nat’s. Eight months of tooth-rotting fluff and endless pits in Clint’s stomach. 

Until one day it just ended. No cue, no calling card. Just James quietly returning to Clint’s relocation to Brooklyn, finding said man passed out on the couch with his hearing ads still in, feeling generous enough in the minimum to remove them for him. 

Though, amidst the eight months, those two had drifted. It had been fine for a while, simply picking on each other like nothing changed. But around the three month mark, they got distant. It was the first week they ever spent together being relived; seemingly enemies, quick to get a jabbing insult at the other. Nobody really questioned it because, well, it was Clint and James. That just happened to be their dynamic. 

It was arguably painful, being agitated by the one you were closest to, half being a rouse and half reality. Either way, they were strained when James finally made his way back around.

* * *

 

Clint’s strong glare was ever-present over his mug, even when he wasn’t mid-sip. He had woken up hardly ten minutes ago and his gears were just starting to kick, hopefully at the dose of coffee. His stink eye was aimed at James, who sat on the outside of the counter, staring at him across the kitchen. He had been there almost the entire time he had been back that morning and was now dealing with the repercussions of Clint being awake. 

“Why are you here?” Clint grumbled, not enough voice charged up for any volume range above that. His cup was set down beside him as his arms were folded over his chest and a scowl covered his face.

“Nat an’ I broke up and this was the only place I figured I could go.” It felt as though it was hard to admit, hard to choke out. 

“And here I was, waiting on the wedding invitation…” was mumbled, hardly all the way out before another swig of bitter coffee was taken. The sarcasm and understandable anger was radiating off of him in noticeable waves but James still produced a growl in his throat. Whatever was to come wasn’t worth fighting so he cut the noise and just continued to make eye contact.

Neither made a move, unable to anyway. Too much to process and too much built up tension to overcome.

* * *

 

One of the annoying tactics Clint stuck out during the eight month long irritation streaks was to take his hearing aids out at times it seemed like James was going to ramble about something important, lacking the fucks to give about whatever was being said and hoping to piss him off further. One of these times, James had been, sincerely, talking about an occasional occurrence for him, in touch with the wolf side. The aids were placed to the side but Clint still lip-read bits and pieces. Something about being used as a canine weapon for a brief period and sometimes he reverted to that savagery. Nothing that was connected dots -- till it happened.

He had stepped out to have his first round of coffee, sluggishly and leisurely, not much energy flowing through him. His eyelids were only half open, obviously not enough to catch James’s brooding figure stalking towards him. When notice was taken, an unamused look clouded his face but no heed was in play.

The shifting continued until Clint was backed solidly against the counter. Even in his tired state, he could see the shifted light in his chocolate eyes and the offset tone in body movement. A tight grasp was placed to keep his wrists down at his side while his neck was inspected to see if it was free real estate. The examination apparently cleared as the next action was a bite between the base of his neck and the start of his shoulder. Unlike the scent marking around the nape of his neck, this was a physical marki bond, an even bigger statement. Anytime to try to mess with the precious goods after seeing it was in deep waters.

Seemingly, it was the flinching, in this case lack thereof, that broke the trance to replace it with panic.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and shitty bc im tired

**Author's Note:**

> some of yall may have noticed that this is a half ass reupload. the first version wasnt good so i rewrote like all of it. hopefully more to come lmao


End file.
